


Redshift

by krazykitkat



Category: Pretender
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazykitkat/pseuds/krazykitkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Redshift - occurs when a light source moves away from an observer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redshift

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: Redshift  
> AUTHOR: Kat/krazykitkat  
> RATING: G  
> DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MTM and NBC Television. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> THANKS: So much to Jen and Angie (who went over and beyond since she didn't know the fandom).  
> Written 2006.

_Redshift - occurs when a light source moves away from an observer._

  


Daddy went back to work two days after the funeral. You begged him to stay with you and away from elevators; he put his hands on your shoulders and said that Parkers were strong.

You yelled that you didn't want to be a Parker. He didn't call you Angel as he left you with the new housekeeper.

Mrs Cohen would've cuddled you and taken you to the kitchen to make pancakes, but she'd disappeared the day after Momma. Daddy'd said she had a family emergency, but you couldn't understand why she'd left you without saying goodbye.

Her replacement was a descendant of the schoolmistresses in your books. She told you to go outside and play quietly and not bother her. You weren't Anne enough to find the kindred spirit within her.

When you were three, Momma said, she'd found you standing on the verandah, staring at the garden. She'd kneeled down and grasped your hand. You'd turned to her and, with an enthralled look on your face, pointed out to the mass of flowers and exclaimed, "Momma's rainbow!" She'd told you that story every spring.

She'd told you last week.

The grass at the bottom of the verandah steps was damp under your dress as you sat with hands clasped around your knees and eyes closed, trying to feel her. If heaven meant being in your favourite place, then Momma should be here, in her garden and with you.

Here where Momma'd taught you the names of every plant (common and botanical), explained the birds and the bees, and showed you the best way to cut flowers.

You jumped up as you heard her calling to you from down beyond the peach blossom ( _Prunus persica_ you whispered proudly as you ran). She moved before you got there, even though you begged her to stay still. Pirouetting, you called out, "Momma," as you searched for a glimpse of her through the foliage. You tried to wipe away the tears blurring your vision as your grief, your need, exploded.

Dogwood, magnolia, rhododendron, camellia, tulip, azalea. Red all around you. You gagged on its metallic taste, fought not to breathe in the organic scent. Covered your ears to block out the screaming.

The new housekeeper quit when Daddy came home. He found you buried beneath the covers on Momma's side of the bed, your fingers stained by crushed petals.

You went to the Centre with him for the rest of the week, spending most of your time in Sydney's office and avoiding Jarod's pity. On Saturday morning he led you out into the garden and said he'd taken care of it.

You cried.

He'd erased a third of Momma's rainbow.


End file.
